


Psychic Paper

by Resa_Saso



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Saso/pseuds/Resa_Saso
Summary: The Doctor's new device doesn't quite work how it should. Whenever he faces the Master, he simply sees through it. When The Doctor finally figures out why, she uses it to get an answer she has long waited for.





	Psychic Paper

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this absolutely sleep deprived so I would stay awake (and cheer up a bit), so there's areally high chance this is just weird crap. Let me know if it is, because in that case I would subtly let it disappear again.  
> Also, forgive me my Sixth Doctor mocking, truth is I love Sixie, but I also love mocking him. x)

He was really just testing it. No need, to show it off, really. Just a little bit of a test run.  
  
Still, he when he stood in front of the Master, whole new body, still a stranger to his old friend and enemy, he felt the almost uncontrolable urge to just... _gloat_ and enjoy the feeling of, for once, being one step ahead of him.  
  
Not that he was much of a gloater this time around, oh, absolutely not. He was modest, at best, very so, some people even called him _shy_.  
  
Having practiced this particular pose in front of a mirror for hours, he was glad to finally be able to present it in a real situation. He grabbed the lapels of his very subtle and modest coat of four different colours, lifted his chin and smirked towards his old nemisis in smug amusement.  
  
„I'm an old friend of the Rani,“ he introduced himself. „This little piece of paper will tell you all you need to know.“  
  
And there he went, testing his newest, absolutely brilliant device. He had constructed it himself, so naturally, it was going to work. A paper which would show his opponent whatever he wanted to see. Most convinient, becuase he knew the Master, obviously and whoever it was the old devil wanted to see, it had to be someone helping him with his devious plans, someone who surely would stroke the Time Lord's massive ego.  
  
The Master frowned at the paper held right in front of his face, then lifted his eyes to expand the frown towards him. The Doctor felt his grin slightly falter.  
  
„Yes Doctor,“ the Master snarled quietly. „I'm aware you were friends with the Rani. I was there, remember?“  
  
The Doctor let sink the paper and looked at it in confusion.  
  
Well, that surely needed some improvements. The whole point of the paper was to not give away his identity and apparantly it had done exactly this.  
  
Quickly, he let it disappear into the insides of his coat. He had noticed people never really wanted to know about anything that was related to his little miracle of colour and fabrics. Why ever that was, really.  
  
„Well, that is rather embarassing,“ he muttered. He would've liked to explain to the Master what went wrong, but wasn't willing to give up on his psychic paper yet.  
  
Maybe next time it would work. For now, he better started running.  
  
  
  
The next time didn't work. He had tried his best to improve of the psychic paper ever since, but sadly was only able to test it after his regeneration, so the Master would truly not know who he was facing. He had tested it on other creatures and adversaries, obviously, and luckily he was able to fool each one of them.  
  
So, even though this new Doctor lacked his predecessor's natural arrogance, he felt quite self-confident, when he stepped in front of the Master once more.  
  
He even chuckled a bit, thinking of how ironic it was to test his psychic paper with questions marks all over his newest outfit.  
  
Quite fitting.  
  
Sure, his long-term enemy wouldn't approve of the humour of the situation, he put up his paper. Now, what was it the Master wanted to see, he wondered? He seemed to be exceptional interested in cats, this time around. Truth was, the Doctor didn't know what he was planning just yet. He had been so excited to test his device, he had accidently stumbled in a bit early. Luckily, the Master would never know, would he?  
  
But the Master just frowned, and since it was the exactly same frown on the exactly same face (honestly, was the goatee even real or was it just a fake beard glued on his face?), the Doctor felt his hearts sink.  
  
„Can I ask you something?“ the Master asked with the unmistakable attitude of someone who was talking to his life long friend rather than an excentric cat delivery man. „What is it with you, running into my schemes and shouting „I'm the Doctor!“ from the rooftops, is it some kind of plan to bore me into goodness?“  
  
The Doctor blinked.  
  
„If... that... is what you believe. Then it might... be just that,“ he brought out slowly, fighting the urge to either scream or laugh.  
  
At this point, even if he was willing to give up on the psychic paper, he wouldn't have managed to tell the Master about his two failures. Usually, he was the one who won, whereas the Master failed in every single one of his schemes. Now this... this was unknown territory. And he couldn't say he liked it.  
  
The Master raised an eyebrow.  
  
The Doctor sighed.  
  
And ran.  
  
  
  
  
It took him some while to figure out why the psychic paper wouldn't work.  
  
In fact, he had already regenerated another time (and in a horrible way, really, no wonder he preferred regenerating in his TARDIS, Earth could be quite barbaric) when it finally doomed him, one night, while drinking tea and staring into his Eye of Harmony.  
  
The Master had higher psychic skills than other people. Hell, he could be literal hypnotic. He expected a device like the psychic paper on someone probably more skilled on that area than he was?  
  
Highly unlikely. He should be able to try and tone it up a bit, though.  
  
His TARDIS hummed and for a moment, he thought she sounded quite sad.  
  
Then he rembered the Master was dead, ghosting inside his Eye of Harmony, gone forever.  
  
With a gulp, he got up and left the room, like he always did when he let his amnesia take the best of him, to forget once more the horrors of his first day in this new body. He left the psychic paper in its shelf, untouched.  
  
Without the Master, what was the point, really?  
  
It wasn't even fun anymore.  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't really fun after his next regeneration, but he was working on it. It had been easy, running through life with curls and puppy eyes, but by human's beauty standards, he wasn't much of a charme anymore. It was like war had left him scarred and grumpy, the regeneration reflecting the nastiness he felt inside.  
  
His ears were too big, his nose very present, his eyes had grown cold.  
  
When he took out the psychic paper again, he had to blow dust off it. But it fitted well into the leather jacket he had found in his closet.  
  
It felt somewhat heavy on his chest. Like childhood memories that had grown to nostalgia, which had grown to sadness. It had been fun and games, a play for both of them, with no winner and no losers.  
  
Now the Doctor had won and he had never felt more like the loser.  
  
With a sigh, he stepped out of his TARDIS. He had no where to go and no desire to see anything more of this universe he had sacrificed his planet for. Nonetheless, he had to make sure he didn't do it for nothing, had to protect the peace he had created for a price to high for him to bear.  
  
Tired, he finished his thought. That's what he looked like. So, so tired.  
  
  
  
  
A lot of thoughts were flooding the Doctor's mind the day the Master returned.  
  
„Oh no!“ came hand in hand with „Oh yes!“, whether he liked it or not. And just after he had embraced his inappropriate joy of the universe's worst enemie's return, there were already new, frightening thoughts. Frightening in different ways.  
  
„He'll steal my TARDIS!“ was the most prominent one, directly followed by „I should have taken my notes off the monitor!“  
  
He had actually started to write silly little thoughts down on post-its, in Gallifreyan, knowing no one but him was left to be able to read them. Well, this was embarassing, as he was really, really sure there were one or two „Theta + Koschei's amongst them.  
  
Following right after this thought, the second he had returned to Earth and found out the Master was now Prime Minister of Great Britain (with a wife?), he thought about how he _really_ should've improved the psychic paper.  
  
Because honestly, didn't he ever learn?  
  
The Master _always_ came back.  
  
The Doctor grinned.  
  
Game on.  
  
  
  
  
He supposed regeneration could be seen as game lost.  
  
On the other hand, it was a new chance, wasn't it?  
  
The Master was gone, falling through to Gallifrey and this time, the Doctor wouldn't let himself doubt, not for one second, that he would see him again. Forget the Time Lock, forget the war, forget Gallifrey was dead and gone, the Master would go there, kick Rassilon's ass and return in time for tea.  
  
And the Doctor was going to be prepared.  
  
And so he went. He didn't only spend his evenings working on his psychic paper, no, he also researched how to properly tie bow ties, added a setting for wood to his sonic screwdriver and saved Amy's and Rory's marriage. It was quite a sucessful run, really.  
  
Which was, most likely, because the Master never showed up.  
  
He met someone else, though. A fierce, very beautiful lady, standing in front of him, clothed in black. Her long, brown hair was all tousled up, her icy blue eyes showed nothing but confusion. Once or twice, he could see her hand feel over her chin, as if she was looking for something that just wasn't in her face.  
  
He wanted to help her, quite frankly, he wasn't someone who let confused, beautiful ladies on their own, but when he stepped towards her, all cheery and friendly, she suddenly aimed three different weapons at him, talked about world domination and repeated again and again the phrase „I'll never stand with the Doctor.“  
  
Could've been everyone, really.  
  
„Sorry,“ the Doctor murmured. „Ehm, sorry, I'm...“ he searched for his psychic paper hectically, one hand still raised in defense. „Here, here, see, I'm completely harmless, really no one you need to hold at gunpoint, actually, let's be honest, I could never hurt you anyway.“  
  
He neglected to mention he was the Doctor. Given her recent mantra, she wasn't exactly his biggest fan.  
  
But the second those blue eyes laid sight on the psychic paper, her face darkened and with a growl, she threw herself at him.  
  
Okay, that's it, the Doctor thought to himself while running. No more psychic paper, unless I know who I'm dealing with and what their psychic capacities are.  
  
He followed that rule for at least two days, then he got bored of it.  
  
  
  
  
In hindsight, the Doctor regretted a lot of his most recent life choices.  
  
The bow ties for example. Not cool at all.  
  
Not recognizing Missy as his oldest and dearest friend and enemy in the whole universe?  
  
Well, he couldn't blame his younger self for that, as he did the same mistake twice, could he now?  
  
Didn't stop him from trying, though.  
  
He lay awake for quite some while, thinking about these things a lot. Thinking about Missy, almost killing the Brigadier's daughter, thinking of what she did to the PE.... to Danny and Clara. He also thought – probably the most – about her „gift“. The idea that somehow, an army of Cyberman would prove a point strong enough for them to become friends again.  
  
In all their time together, the one thing the Master had never realized, that for them to be friends, he didn't have to do anything, because they always would be.  
  
Trust, of course, was something else entirely. He wasn't sure if she had ever grasped the concept of it. if she even could.  
  
It was some time in this night, long and dark, until the first rays of sun lighted it up and shed new hope on his tired and heavy face, the Doctor realized. He finally realized, that when all Missy had ever wanted was to get her friend back, then maybe the only person she had _always_ wanted to see had, in fact, been him.  
  
He smirked and finally fell asleep, having solved a riddle of centuries and proved he wasn't completely incapable of devicing a psychic paper at the same time.  
  
  
  
  
One more lifetime, the Doctor thought while laying on the cold ground beneath her.  
  
Well, it was her own fault, really. She shouldn't have put her TARDIS through so much worry, acting like an idiot while refusing to regenerate.  
  
She jumped back to her feet. The exhaustion she had felt deep inside of her soul, the pain, the coldness she had felt spreading towards her hearts, they were all gone. Maybe it was just the thrill of being someone new, maybe it was being young again, energetic, _female_ \- Really, he had hoped for this to happen since his third regeneration, when he had found capes and frills in the depths of his closet. Not, that being a man had stopped him from wearing them.  
  
Her TARDIS would need to cook – and sulk – a bit, so she gave her an affectionate stroke and started running. Running through the grasses at her feet until they turned into asphalt, until she reached the city of London and had a look around. All around her, even on the news paper she checked for the date, a prominent „Vote Saxon!“ would stare at her.  
  
She made her way to Downing Street, almost against her will. It was like she had no control over her feet, the second she had realized he was here, she just had to go and see him.  
  
Her thoughts were racing. She thought about him the day he had saved her life from Rassilon, the day he had jumped through the Time Lock to Gallifrey. She thought about his saner moments, all of them, all of those little, shiny minutes of peace and calm inmidst of his screaming madness.  
  
And she thought about how all of this had made place for something so cold and collected in the most recent events. She had always thought, with the drums gone, they would be friends again. She had had even more hope with the developement Missy had gone through.  
  
But he... He had been like a stranger. A cruel, cold, careless stranger. And in some way, his words and gazes had hurt her more than his punches, his murders, his army of steel.  
The Doctor stopped dead, when she realized she had ran right into a group of armed security, guarding the entrance to the building she knew the Master was in.  
  
She smiled her most charming smile, and, having absolutely no idea whether it was actually charming or not, decided to show them their psychic paper.  
  
She wasn't sure, what exactly they read, but it must've been good for her, because they saluted and led her straight into his office.  
  
Well, so much for caution, but who needed caution anyway, caution was a boring companion. She didn't do boring.  
  
„The inspection, Sir!“ one of the security men told him, saluted again respectfully towards his prime minister, then quietly left.  
  
There he stood, all baby-round face, no beard yet, clothed in a suit slightly too big for him and one eyebrow raised.  
  
„That's funny, inspection called me just five minutes ago, telling me they wouldn't make it before next week.“  
  
„Oh it's... ehm... unannounced inspection. Because really, what's the point in letting someone know they'll get inspected beforehand?“ she smiled.  
  
She decided that, yes, her grin must be indeed charming, because he let her see the tiniest sign of a smirk.  
  
„The water tap is trickling. We called inspection for the water tap. Could I see your ID please?“  
  
Well, she thought. Who needed caution if she could, once and for all, settle whether this Master wanted to see her or not?  
  
A wide grin on his face, she held up the psychic paper and enjoyed the view of the Master almost derailing his lower jaw.  
  
„You did it again!“ he told her after a few seconds of silence, almost accusingly. „You just went in and told me who you are. Again. Did no one ever teach you about good opportunities?"  
  
„Well you know, actually," she snorted. "I never told you who I am, not once. This is psychic paper. Shows you whatever you want to see. Oh, but don't worry, my love. I'll take it as a compliment.“  
  
She leaned over the desk, pecked a soft kiss on his lips and then walked out, very, very calmly, while the Master tried to fight the shock that had obviously befallen him.  
  
Only when she was safe and sound in her newly redecorated TARDIS again, she realized where this Master's hostility came from. And that she had just signed her younger self up for a year trapped inside of a cage looking like Gollum.  
  
Damn, she had just played herself.  
  


 


End file.
